


Ghost of the Machine

by tinknevertalks



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s04e20 Entity, F/M, SJshipday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 16:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20011588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinknevertalks/pseuds/tinknevertalks
Summary: Jack gives Sam a ride home, prompting conversation.





	Ghost of the Machine

**Author's Note:**

> Gah. So if you know me outside of AO3 you know I've been fiddling about with this fic for far too long, and really, the only reason this has been finished is because of Ship Day today. So I hope you enjoy. :) This isn't my usual fandom for writing so please forgive any weirdness. XD
> 
> And thank you SammyFlower for the quick read over and the confidence boost to post this. :)

Silence was not something often found at Stargate Command. Whilst the buzz of activity was generally low, it was still there, a delicate harmony to the hum of the base computers and the occasional siren as the gate activated. Down in the Infirmary, Sam could almost find the quiet often lost in the cement bunker. Things here were muted and unmoving, perfect for the rest Janet ordered her to have as she waited to be discharged.

Except she couldn’t. An uncomfortable tenseness had solidified in her muscles as her mind went back and forth between monotonous chattering and panicky spikes anytime her mind got too quiet. For once, silence was the last thing she wanted.

“Hey, Carter.”

Drawn to his voice like a magnet, Sam looked up from her hands. “Hi, sir.”

“How you doin’?” he asked from the foot of her bed.

She blinked, nodded slowly and smiled. “I’m ok… Tired.”

“I bet.” Jack looked around the room, hands in pockets as he rocked on his feet. “So… You stuck here until Doc Fraiser gets off?”

“Pretty much,” she admitted.

“Want a ride home?”

Stunned, Sam looked up quickly at her commanding officer, his brown eyes soft and warm. “I… uh… Is it ok by Janet?” He quirked an eyebrow. Abashed, she hurriedly answered, “Sure,” pushing herself into a sitting position, her legs dangling over the edge of the bed.

“Sure?” he echoed, his gaze critical. In the passing seconds, Sam could hear the chattering slowly coming back. Ignoring it, she nodded again, smiling when he did. “Good. I’ll be outside-" his eyes glanced downwards, then back to her face "- when you're ready,” he said, making Sam realise she still wore scrubs.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

He shrugged. “You’re in the neighbourhood,” he explained, both ignoring the fact that she really wasn’t. Twenty minutes later, after promising Janet she’d rest and drink lots of water, Jack drove her off base. Her eyelids felt so heavy but her mind just wouldn’t shut up. Memories flashed past her eyes as if on a badly edited tape, jumping back and forth.

_“This one is important.”_

_“She is.”_

_Important. She is._ The three words flew around until she could almost hear him say the words, in the same tone he’d used all those months ago. The pick up jostled on its suspension over a bad bit of road, dragging her back to the present.

“You ok there, Carter?” Cautious voice, measured words.

“Yes, sir,” she replied automatically, her mind going quiet again.

A pause. “Almost there.”

She opened her mouth to speak but decided against it. Looking out her window, they sped past the houses, the neighbourhood a tidy cookie-cutter street a child had drawn for their homework. The domesticity surrounding her felt more alien than it should but maybe that was the unspoken downside to life in the Stargate programme.

His pick up rolled to a stop outside her house. “Ok?” Concern this time.

Nodding carefully, she said, “Just tired. Thanks for the ride.”

“Ah, what are friends for?” he asked jokingly.

“Are we?” she asked, realising as the words came out of her mouth that they really should’ve stayed in her mind. Shaking the words away from her head, she muttered, “I… uh. Sorry. Forget that.” Smiling tightly, she got out of the truck, ignoring the hurt look in his eyes. “Goodnight,” she called, closing the door. By the time she unlocked her front door, he had gone.

Not bothering with the lights, she dragged herself to the kitchen, dumping her keys on the counter. She could barely move her body but her mind still ran at full speed. Worse, all her past decisions, about her career and everything she’d pushed aside, came hurtling to the forefront of her thoughts. Unbidden, the image of Doctor Carter kissing her Colonel rose to the surface, as did the jealousy that followed like a vapour trail. Tamping it down, Sam reminded herself that they had a professional relationship to uphold; it couldn’t be tainted by frivolous emotions.

Water drunk, glass rinsed, she headed to her bedroom. Even if she’d been in the back seat for a good portion of it, the events of the day finally caught up with her, pressing down on her shoulders and back as she moved. As she turned down her comforter, dressed in pyjamas, the doorbell rang. Only one person could be there, the only one who’d dare ring her bell after midnight (and not called Janet). Not bothering with a dressing gown, the chittering noises in her head quiescent, she dragged herself to the door.

“Of course we’re friends,” he said when she finally opened the door, his voice a dark whisper in the night. “You’re --”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, just as quiet. “I didn’t mean to ask.” Holding her hand to her mouth, she tried valiantly to hold back the yawn.

He grimaced. “You should sleep.” Hooking a thumb over his shoulder he added, “Goodn--”

“Wait.” The word stopped his movements. “You should -- coffee! You should drink coffee before you... go,” she finished lamely, holding the door. Her expression softened. “Come in?”

He nodded, his expression mirroring hers.

Coffee in hand, neither could look properly at the other, their glances skittering away when one caught the other looking. They lasted all of a minute before he said, “So this was fun. Very quiet, like the doctor ordered, but I best--” 

Her fingers on his wrist stopped the flow of words, the very air around them pausing. “I can’t get it back in the room.” It wasn’t a confession she had meant to make, but the words tumbled out like every other sentence that evening.

He didn’t insult her by asking what “it” was, he just looked down at her fingers and sighed.

“We left it there so it wouldn’t affect our work,” she continued.

“And it hasn’t.”

Sam blinked, shook her head, took her hand away from his wrist, almost instantly missing the warmth and his steady pulse. “Really? Hasn’t affected any aspect of our work, _sir_?” she emphasised, raising her eyebrows.

“Carter.” In the soft lamplight of her dining room, her name rumbled dangerously from his lips, a warning.

She carried on, none of her usual alarms sounding in her head. “You hesitated.” His eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t have waited.” Her gaze dropped to her mug. “Either time.”

He blinked and squared his jaw. “I’d do it again.”

Her eyes shot up to his. “Si--”

“Damn it Sam, for one conversation drop the sir.”

Huffing, Sam bolstered herself. “Jack.”

“Yes?” His expression was free of the consternation he'd shown barely seconds earlier.

She wanted to glare, wanted to rail against him, wanted to do anything but smile at his obvious answer, or duck her head so he couldn't see how happy one word made her. But smile and duck was what she did, rolling her eyes indulgently at the infuriatingly wondrous man before her.

“I mean it, Sam,” he continued, smiling softly himself. His hand touched her wrist, warm electricity shooting up her arm as she met his gaze. It was all there to see, every one of his walls down so completely that all she saw was love radiating from him.

Slowly, she leant forward, their eyes locked as he moved his head to meet hers, lips brushing together. It was tentative, careful, almost like an innocent teenager's first kiss, but then he moved back. Sam almost pouted except for his hands in her hair, and his lips back on hers. Her brain short-circuited; all she could do was match his fervour, cling to his shoulders, push herself off her chair and into his lap. Everything in her head stayed blessedly quiet as she succumbed to pleasure, his hands warm and heavy on her waist as her hips moved instinctively against him.

“Sam,” he groaned, those same hands squeezing as her fingers threaded through his hair. Every inch of skin she could touch she would taste, humming delightedly as her lips dragged along his jaw, his five pm shadow rasping against her. “Christ, Carter.”

Those words should have stopped everything. Her name was Sam, or Samantha, not Carter. Except hearing his rich tones caress her surname with such ardent adoration only added fuel to the silencing fire, her mind an empty journal. This was bliss after hours of numbing noise. Caution already thrown to the wind, she started biting the side of his neck gently, wanting to feel something between her teeth.

All too quickly he was standing, hands on her six, to deposit her on the table. It was hard and unyielding and the perfect height to keep kissing, one leg wrapping around his to keep him close, her hands trying to divest him of his flannel. She needed to feel his skin, his heat, his heartbeat; something to anchor her fully to the moment.

"We shouldn't," Jack murmured, a hollow offering to the gods of propriety, as his lips found her neck.

"I need you," she breathed back. Everything paused, the two panting in the other's breath, before the roller coaster freefall of open-mouthed kisses, divested clothes, succulent warmth. The bliss-filled cacophony of blazing arousal screamed in her ears as Jack made her see stars.

The table was too hard beneath her. Jack's stubble scraped and prickled against the skin of her neck. It wasn't unpleasant, but--

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

His kind eyes were warm and honest. "I'd do--"

She shook her head, not needing to hear the words. Her hands stroked his upper arms as she said, "I know." Kissing his shoulder, she mumbled, "I would too."


End file.
